


No Sweeter Innocence

by alwaysbeliev



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), M/M, Soulmates
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-23
Updated: 2019-07-04
Packaged: 2020-05-18 13:48:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,944
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19335778
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alwaysbeliev/pseuds/alwaysbeliev
Summary: Soulmate counters weren't implemented until after the whole ordeal in the Garden. This leaves demons without one, but certain angels were provided one. This is going exactly where you think it's going.





	1. The Start

The counters were ingenious. Only the type of thing God could dream up, really. They had been implemented after the whole Garden ordeal, meant to aid all beings in their search for their soulmate. Adam and Eve were already soulmates, obviously, as they had no other choice, but when they left, the Almighty decided to give others a shot as well. It was well-known that the counter on your wrist would lead you to knowing exactly when you were going to meet your soulmate.

Now, as in all things, God moves in mysterious ways, and as such, it was never a set-in-stone number. Any manner of decisions would lead one closer or further from meeting their soulmate. For example, when you decide to take the backroads home instead of traveling your usual walking path from your neighborhood coffee shop, that might prevent you from meeting your one true love. However, for another person, it might be the very decision that takes them directly to their soulmate. The number changed from day to day, as ineffable as the Great Plan.

Humans weren’t the only beings that received counters. Angels received them as well, although the higher-ups were not given such a blessing, as they were expected to focus on continuing the Great Work. (Gabriel, Michael, Uriel, and company were not too upset by this. Most angels were much too busy to dally with such trivial matters as “soulmates”.) But angels that were put on Earth for the purpose of delivering miracles and the like were given the opportunity to discover their soulmate. Their counters had almost all reached the 0 mark within their first week.

One angel, however, was not quite so lucky. Aziraphale, former guardian of the Eastern Gate, frowned at the ticker on his inner left wrist. He had had his counter as long as the others, yet it was still counting down. Its time had fluctuated on many occasions. There were days where it said he had a mere matter of hours (the days where he was out and about on Earth), yet other days it would say he still had weeks, months, sometimes even years. Oddly enough, the time frame got longer when he was in Heaven. He had expected it to be shorter, since all other angels’ soulmates were other angels. But it was always shorter when he was mingling among humanity.

His days were spent on the odd miracle here and there, but primarily simply living amongst humanity and leading them towards the Light. Ever since Adam and Eve had left the Garden, the world had grown and developed in ways that he had never anticipated. It was both fascinating and somewhat frightening. He tried his very best to not question the timeline, but every now and then, there was some event that he couldn’t help but ponder at. The whole business with Cain and Abel, for a start. He had thought of the demon, Crawley, then, wondering if he had had something to do with the brutal circumstances that drove the separation in humanity. 

And now, here he was, staring at a great big boat, brow furrowed in apprehension. Although the Angel’s focus was more on the surrounding crowd of people. They had been taunting the builder of the boat, Noah, who was commanded by God to build the ark (and he was wise to have listened). What they didn’t know was that Noah was speaking the truth. In just two days’ time, they would all have drowned in a flood of, well, biblical proportions. And Aziraphale was expected to just let it happen.

Animals walked by in twos, heading for the boat, causing all humans to pause and watch, amazed and confused by the strange parade passing by. Aziraphale could barely keep still, his fingers worrying the sleeves of his robe. 

“Hello, Aziraphale!”

The Angel startled as a face he had not seen in a thousand years appeared beside him.

“Crawley,” he replied politely, although his focus was primarily on the goings-on. The demon asked him a question, something about that flaming sword he had misplaced, and he brushed it off, careful to avoid saying much that would draw attention to himself. 

“What’s all this about?” Crawley asked, his snake eyes scanning the crowd and noting the chickens and camels that were passing by. “Build a big boat and fill it with a travelling zoo?”

Paranoid, Aziraphale glanced around them, ensuring nobody was listening to the two of them before replying, “From what I hear, God’s a bit… tetchy. Wiping out the human race. Big storm.” He gestured vaguely at the dark, overcast sky. Crawley seemed to think this over a moment before the words he had heard truly reached him.

“ALL of them?” There was real concern in his voice.

“Just the locals,” the angel said, shrugging in what he hoped seemed a nonchalant fashion. “Well, not ALL the locals, see Noah up there?” There was a bearded man aboard the ship, looking like a traffic cop as he directed animals. “And his sons, and their wives, and their families, they’re all going to be fine.”

“But they’re drowning everybody else?”

For a moment, Aziraphale tried to find another positive spin to the whole situation, but all he could do was nod and avoid looking at the demon beside him. Crawley’s gaze swept the area and latched onto several small children that raced after a pair of goats.

“Not the kids? You can’t kill kids,” he said, shaking his head slowly. The Angel could only murmur a confirmation. “Well, that’s more the kind of thing you’d expect my lot to do.”

As Crawley looked up at the boat, Aziraphale looked to him. His heart softened when he saw the worry and disbelief on his companion’s face; it helped to think that he wasn’t the only one who thought so. It was one thing for an angel to question the Almighty, but quite normal for a demon to do so. And if a demon was agreeing with him, well… 

“It’s not all bad,” he reassured him. Or was he reassuring himself? “When it’s all done, the Almighty’s going to put up a new thing called a ‘rain bow’, and it will be a promise not to, er, drown everyone again.”

“How kind,” drawled Crawley sarcastically. It put the Angel back on edge.

“You can’t judge the Almighty, Crawley. God’s plans are--”

“Are you going to say ‘ineffable’?”

Aziraphale closed his mouth, opened it, and then closed it again. How did he know?

“Possibly.”

He stared straight ahead, his focus once more on the boat, as Crawley shouted towards Noah’s son about the unicorn. Delightful creatures, but not meant to last. 

He had a strange feeling in his gut. He hadn’t felt this since he had given his sword to Adam and spoke with Crawley for the first time. It didn’t feel very good, but it also wasn’t terrible. Very similar to a stomachache, but the kind that one gets after eating too much ice cream. Aziraphale felt as though he were breaking some rules. Technically, he was, by doubting the Almighty. But it used to feel much much worse than this. 

Maybe that wasn’t a bad thing.


	2. The 5 Stages of Grief

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aziraphale has a realization. And he's not sure if it's a good one.

It wasn’t until after the flood that Aziraphale realized something that sent his heart plummeting further than it ever had before. He had been so busy fretting over what was happening on Earth that he lost track of how close his counter was to the End. (Not that End.) He had grown accustomed to wearing clothing with longer sleeves, and his wrists were typically covered. And he had been so distracted by his own inner turmoil.

Approximately 3 days after the rain had started, he was changing when something caught his eye. The color on his counter had changed. This was normal, as it would turn redder the closer to 0 it grew, and green the further away it was. Rarely did it change while he was in Heaven, the color green was normal. But something was wrong. The counter was white and it stated 3 days, 1 hour, and 34 minutes.. 35 minutes... It was counting up!

Frowning, Aziraphale tapped his counter. It did nothing. Gently, he shook his wrist. Still nothing. Heart skipping a beat, he shook it violently. Nothing with a capital N. It remained the same. His heart skipped a few more beats (metaphorically, of course) while his mind started to race. He scrambled to recall when he could have possibly run into his soulmate; 3 days ago was the last time he had been on Earth and interacted with anyone.

Could his soulmate really be a human? He hadn’t thought that possible, what with his true form, but mysterious ways and all that.. But he hadn’t spoken to any humans in the past 3 days, and at least 6 hours. As the rain had started falling, he and Crawley left as quickly as possible, finding their own safe, dry spots. And he had been here in Heaven since then, avoiding the soggy swamp that was the Earth at the moment. So not a human, that was for sure. 

He felt a brief moment of reprieve before the anxiety returned. What other angels had he interacted with? He remembered a celebratory moment with Gabriel and Uriel as he arrived in Heaven, but they didn’t have soulmates. He walked past a handful of other angels, all busily doing their own work as assigned in Heaven, but none of them seemed to give him more than an obligatory nod. In talking with the others in the past, he knew that words had to be spoken in order for it to really qualify as “meeting your soulmate”. They would have full conversations before gleefully realizing their counter had lapsed from red to white. He had been holed up for 3 days, watching the goings-on from a distance, never truly interacting with anyone as he lamented the loss of such a huge part of humanity.

There was nothing else. Aziraphale was left, confused and excited, considering all the possibilities. He racked his brain for when he had conversed with anyone, anything. The morning of that day, he had stopped in a marketplace and picked up a delicious little snack, but he had done that so many times that there was no conversation. He had bumped into someone as he walked to Noah’s boat, but the only word spoken was an apology. The other fellow had said nothing. The angel stood and began pacing back and forth. The walk to the boat had taken roughly a half hour, and he was alone for that, aside from greeting the animals as he passed them. And when he arrived, he squeezed his way to the front of the throng to peer up at the boat. And then Crawley had appeared…

No. No, that simply couldn’t be. After the conversation with Crawley, it started to rain, they went their separate ways, and now here he was. 

But it wasn’t possible.

But what if it was?

Aziraphale shook his head a little roughly, attempting to clear it of the ridiculous thoughts he was having. Yet it kept returning. That was the only conversation he had had at the time frame that matched his counter’s calculations (which were never wrong). 

Crawley is a _demon_. And he was an _angel_. By all accounts, they were sworn enemies, there was no hope for such a thing. And God wouldn’t… Surely not…

Feeling lightheaded, an odd sensation for the angel, he sat, slumping over instead of his usual straight posture. The word _ineffable_ was on repeat in his head. Everything here was ineffable. Everything that had to do with the Almighty was ineffable. There was no escaping it. And it was destiny, as future romantic writers would call it, that they were soulmates. 

_Soulmates._

All Aziraphale wanted at that moment was a glass of water. It wasn’t necessary, he knew, he was the king of unnecessary, but it would bring a welcome coolness to his overly warm body. He could feel the burning in his cheeks. The snake swam before his vision, morphing into Crawley with his red locks and yellow eyes, that cheeky smile that gave Aziraphale an odd fuzzy feeling.

No.

This was NOT happening. Surely it was just a joke. Any moment now, Gabriel or Michael would pop in and say, “Surprise! We were joking! We tampered with the counter while you weren’t looking, you are definitely not destined to spend the rest of your life with a demon of hell! Jolly good joke!” They didn’t know about Crawley, though, as far as Aziraphale was aware. If they did, they would have said something from the start. But they hadn’t.

Instead of deflating, Aziraphale felt a rare surge of anger rush through him. If the Archangels weren’t doing this, then it was a really twisted idea from the Almighty. She had better have a good explanation for thinking his soulmate was a demon. They were polar opposites! Ever since the Fall, no less! In every way, they were made to fight against each other, to be the others’ undoing. As an angel, by nature, Aziraphale was infinitely better than Crawley.

And yet, he knew this wasn’t true. He wasn’t the judge of who was better than who, he had been trained on that since the Beginning. And the Almighty was All-Knowing. It wasn’t his place to question what She did. It was Her job, after all, to decide these things. And his job was to obey. 

His thoughts returned to the day of the Flood. He had felt something in that moment when they were talking, and at the time, he thought it was due to his reasoning that doubting wasn’t all that bad. Now he knew it was due to his counter dropping. Still, he thought, maybe it wasn’t such a bad thing. They already got along fairly well, much better than most demons got along with most angels. He hadn’t had the privilege of meeting any other demons, so he didn’t really have the experience to have a solid opinion, but maybe that was a sign. The Almighty sure was fond of Her signs at this time. It would be another 37 days before the rain bow would appear. 

Aziraphale sighed heavily. His eyes pricked with tears. He was surprised, dabbing at his cheek and pulling away wet fingers. Angels never cried. 

This wasn’t going to be easy, he knew that. Love wasn’t meant to be easy. He expected turmoil and pain and downright nastiness over the next several thousand years. This was his Test. But he already had the start of something inside of him. He could feel the years coming, and he was ready. No matter what was coming, he was ready.

Pushing himself from his seat, Aziraphale stretched and took a long breath with his eyes closed. He paused just a moment before opening them and letting determination settle in. He could do this.


	3. The Oblivious Nature of Existing

Crowley.

He was going by Crowley now. 

If it hadn’t been for what was happening in the moment his soulmate had shared that tidbit, Aziraphale might have laughed, or at least smiled, or possibly even blushed. It suited him better. Crowley sounded like a proper demon name while still retaining the snakelike image, the angel thought. _Crowley._

It had been a few more thousand years since the realization hit him. Aziraphale returned to Earth after the Flood, eager to interact once more with humanity and (he would be lying if he said the thought hadn’t crossed his mind) eager to see Crowley again. But the demon was never anywhere to be found.

Throughout Moses, Esther, Jonah, and many others, Aziraphale kept his eyes wide open. He would swear multiple times that he had seen a dark snake slithering by, or that he had seen a flash of yellow eyes or red hair. Red hair was the most common mistaken sighting. He had turned to merely ignoring the presence of it. People had black hair, blond hair, brown hair, even white hair, and red hair, while much less common in humans, was still more common than yellow eyes. The stories and years passed with no word from his supposed soulmate.  
The longer it went on, the less Aziraphale believed Crowley really was his soulmate. It made no sense. Surely he had merely received a faulty counter. Many days were spent staring at it, willing it to return to a color, any color. Even if it had turned purple, at least then he would know for sure that it was broken.

But the Almighty made no mistakes. This was made clear every single day. The Great Plan rolled ever onward, every happenstance a detail, a cog in the well-oiled machine. Even poor Job, the unfortunate man, was on purpose. All of the terrible things that seemed to turn from bad day to bad week to bad life, these were meant to teach a lesson. It was a valuable one, at least that was what he knew. And it was the Almighty who had chosen to allow it. 

He often flipped back and forth between acceptance and denial. It felt like he was going through a prolonged grieving period. In one moment, he was more than happy to follow along and do as was decided, that Crowley and him were Intended. But then he would witness a human wedding or hear of the awful things the forces of Hell were doing, and he felt disgusted. Disgusted with himself, with his lot in life, with all the possibilities. 

In this moment, he was more than glad of the opportunity for distraction. Around them, women were crying, men were stony-faced, and the Son of God was moaning in pain. It was a lot of emotion and heartbreak in one space, and call it blasphemy, but Aziraphale was glad for it. Without it, he might have blurted out the one thing that had plagued his mind for the past couple of thousand years. 

“What is it he said that got everyone so upset?” Crowley’s question dragged the angel from his own thoughts. 

“Be kind to each other,” Aziraphale stated plainly. His mind returned to the scene at hand.

“Oh yeah, that’ll do it.” 

A strangled wail rent the air. There was a pang in the angel’s soul. He knew why this was happening, he understood it for the most part, but it still hurt. The man on the cross was a pure soul. This was going to save all of humanity from their sins, as the Great Plan said, so really it was for the best. 

Silence rang out while the group continued to stand around. It, thankfully, wasn’t the demon beside him who finally broke the frozen atmosphere around the audience. A few people broke away, stepping out of the loose circle that had formed. Aziraphale found it difficult to do the same, but a gentle tugging on his sleeve from Crowley startled him enough to break him out of his trance. Together, they stepped away.

\- * - * - * - * -

The Great Roman Empire. It was so lively, so beautiful, colorful, and so full of the most utterly _delicious_ food. Humanity wasn’t at its greatest, but Aziraphale was content to carry out his expected tasks while taking part in the culture. He was happily sitting in an eatery, daylight streaming in and lighting up his table. He admired the shapes of the flowers in the centerpiece and the way the light shone on them. Carefully, he grabbed a cloth napkin and placed it in his lap.

The glint of the counter on his wrist caught his attention. There was no mistaking it now; it had most definitely been counting up since the day of the Flood. It now read well over 2000 years, right down to the minute. The white light was no longer as bright as it had been. Most faded after the initial meeting, but his was still visible. He had since accepted that he and Crowley were destined to be, but he had still not told the demon this; he was too scared to mention it. With a flick of his wrist, he hid his counter under the excess fabric of his chilton. 

A familiar voice reached the angel’s ears, causing him to perk up in astonishment. There he was! The demon himself! Aziraphale suddenly felt giddy. As the bartender brought up whatever Crowley had asked for, Aziraphale stood and crossed the floor, getting the demon’s attention. He wasn’t prepared for the jolt of electricity that went through his chest as they made eye contact. Instantly, his knees were jelly and his fingers were fidgety. Oh, dear, this was not how he wanted this to go at all.

“Crawley! I mean, Crowley!” he grinned. Slowly, the demon turned to look at him, raising his eyebrows briefly in acknowledgement. His hair was styled just like a Roman senator’s. He even had the wreath of golden leaves around his head, the bright colors expected of someone with a decent amount of money in this land, all of it screamed Roman Empire except for the strange glasses on the bridge of his nose. It occurred to Aziraphale that this was hiding the demon’s snake eyes. “What on Earth are you doing here?”

Crowley grabbed his cup and took a long drink before responding.

“What do you think I’m doing here? The question is, what are you doing here?”

Oh, the conversation had turned to him. He wasn’t expecting that.

“I heard of this wonderful thing that Petronius is doing with oysters at his restaurant, I had to come find out for myself,” he said, a bit of guilt tracing his voice. _Why did he feel so embarrassed suddenly?_

“Huh,” Crowley said. “I’ve never actually had oysters.”

“Oh, well let me tempt you--” Aziraphale froze suddenly, realizing what he was saying. This was definitely not asking the demon on a date. He also was doing everything against what he was supposed to be doing. “Well, that’s more-- That’s not quite what I--”

Crowley merely raised one eyebrow. A hint of amusement flashed across his face, mostly hidden by his spectacles.

“Isn’t that my job?” he said, causing a fluttering to go through the angel. Aziraphale opened his mouth, floundering for a response for a second. “Yes, you can tempt me. Anything to break this utter monotony.” He swept off the stool and stood, expectantly, in front of the angel. “Are you going to lead the way, or was that all rhetorical?”

“No, no, of course, right this way,” Aziraphale said, shaking his head a little vigorously, attempting to clear it. He was beginning to feel a surge of panic. In a grander gesture than intended, he swept his left arm out, indicating the demon lead the way from the building.

Once they were in the street, they fell into step beside each other. As much as they could with the bustle of the mid-afternoon, anyway. It wasn’t a far walk, Aziraphale knew, he was more than familiar with Petronius’ restaurant.

“What was that on your arm?” 

The angel briefly existed in a world without counters, and he glanced at his arm in bewilderment before turning a bright shade of scarlet. Shakily, he tucked his hands behind his back. Clearing his throat, he put on the best casual tone he could and said, “Oh, that was my, er, soulmate counter.”

Crowley seemed to ponder this. 

“Angels have soulmates?” he asked, genuine curiosity in his voice. “How does that work, exactly?”

“Ah, well, just like it does with humans, really. We have the counter on our wrist, and it counts down to 0 until we meet our soulmate. Then it turns to white and fades away eventually.”

“So you haven’t met your soulmate.”

It was a statement. Crowley had been around humans for just as long as Aziraphale, so it made sense that he would know what it meant. But it also meant he didn’t get a close enough look at the counter to recognize that Aziraphale’s said he had met his soulmate millennia ago.

“Not exactly,” he finally replied. 

“Do angels have human soulmates? Because I can't even begin to imagine how that might work, what with the wings and the eyes and the fin--”

“No, nothing of the sort. Angels have angel soulmates, as humans have human soulmates.”

“Naturally,” Crowley agreed. It was amazing that he just accepted it at face value, Aziraphale wondered. “When are you supposedly meeting your soulmate, then, angel?”

There it was. The one question he did not want to be asked. And spoken so casually, so friendly, he had even used a term of endearment. _Is that how he had intended it?_ His palms were already sweating from the whole interaction, his heart racing, and he had reached a delicate point. Did he lie and say, “Oh, tomorrow, for sure!” Did he tell the truth and spill everything to Crowley, right here, 4000 years after they had met? He didn’t think he was ready. 

Luckily for him, they had arrived at the restaurant. Though it would have been the polite thing to allow his companion to go first, this time, Aziraphale led the way into the restaurant and beelined for his regular table, Crowley in tow. The conversation was forgotten by the demon as they talked of oysters and the wondrous things humanity was doing with food. 

Aziraphale counted it as a close call.

\- * - * - * - * -

He cursed himself. He had been so close to saying everything, telling Crowley everything, giving it all away. The cold dew still clung to his armor, and he threw down his helmet in frustration. As he pulled off his suit piece by piece, the ever-awful counter on his wrist came into view once again, still just as visible as it was when it arrived. Feeling uncharacteristically angry, Aziraphale rubbed at it, willing it out of existence. This was one miracle he was unable to perform.

An Arrangement had been reached that day. It turned out that while the angel had been working hard to perform miracles and strengthen King Arthur’s rule in the Kingdom of Wessex, Crowley had been doing the same, but opposite. Which was cancelling everything out. So, essentially, they were getting nothing done. No wonder things had felt impossible lately.

This Arrangement was quite possibly the worst thing that could’ve happened in conjunction with his soulmate counter. Now they had made a promise to continue seeing each other. And perform miracles and.. and _temptings_ for one another! He shuddered violently. The inside of his stomach churned in guilt and resistance. He couldn’t do this, wouldn’t do this, he didn’t have the ability to. Well, sure, he had the capability to, but he just wasn’t able to. 

Ultimately, it came down to this: by seeing Crowley more often, now it would be impossible not to tell the demon about the soulmate deal. That they were destined to be together, to spend the rest of eternity together, never more to be separated. And so much of him wanted that so badly. He rather enjoyed seeing the demon on a regular basis (if you could call every few hundred to thousand years regular). Aziraphale’s anger softened around the edges as the happy thought filled him up. They could find a nice cottage, share meals, go on their errands together--

_No. No no no no no._

Anger flared up again, sharp and hot. This stupid counter. There had to be a way to get rid of it, surely, to remove it entirely from his being. He could burn it off, he reasoned, a minor miracle to produce flames. Sure, it would hurt, but it would be gone. And that was what he wanted. Get rid of the proof and nothing had to happen. He could keep a secret for the rest of his life. _However long that was going to last._

In a daze, he left the armory in search of a secluded spot to perform the deed. He barely noticed the stable hands he passed as he rounded the edge of the castle. The distant clink of metal hitting metal grabbed his attention. The blacksmith shop! Of course! They would have the tools, the flames, and all without his needing to draw attention to himself. A new energy in his stride, he aimed directly for the blacksmith. 

It wasn’t until he was holding the safe end of a white-hot metal tool that the gravity of what he was doing hit Aziraphale. 

“Hey!” shouted the blacksmith, dropping his tools. “What are ye doing?!”

He dropped the tool and looked at the man, eyes huge.

“I am.. So sorry,” he apologized, his voice sounding distant. “I-I don’t know what I was doing.” And, in a near whisper, “Forgive me” as he ran from the area. He didn’t stop until he reached the cover of the trees.

Gasping for breath, Aziraphale pressed his back against a tall fir. His counter burned and he grabbed his wrist, rubbing it forcefully. Searing breaths pierced his lungs. Tears sprang to his eyes and he leaned his head back against the trunk, allowing them to spill over and down his face. He wouldn’t see how human he was in this moment until a couple thousand years from now. Forcing himself to focus on the surrounding nature, the angel slowly came back down to Earth. 

The scent of the pine trees completely replaced the awful words running through his head. He took one shaky breath and finally released his wrist, looking down at it. Somehow, it was brighter than before. It gave off a faint glow in the fading light of the forest. Almost 4000 years now, he saw, since he had met his soulmate. Well, technically it had been over 4000 years. But the counter didn’t know. How could it have? It didn’t exist before.

_Alright,_ he thought. _It’s time to pull yourself together, Aziraphale. This is beyond your control now. This is the way it is meant to be. Ineffable._ Ineffable.

Determined and collected, the angel pushed away from the tree. As he walked back to the castle, he allowed his thoughts to return to Crowley. Sweet, innocent Crowley, who had no idea what they were in for in their future. Even _he_ didn’t know. But they were in it together. He had scarcely allowed himself to think that word, _together._ There was so much ahead, and now they had an Arrangement. They would see each other more and more frequently. He could get comfortable around the demon, feel safer with him, and perhaps earn his trust until he was able to safely tell him about his counter. He could even show him, Aziraphale realized, since his counter was still on his wrist. 

They would be okay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I swear I'm not projecting. I swear I'm not projecting. I swear I'm not--


	4. The Moment

Sunday.

The First Day of the Rest of Their Lives.

At long last, Heaven and Hell were leaving them to their own lives. The weight had been lifted from their shoulders. Their scheme had worked, Agnes’ prophecy for them rang true, and now they were having lunch at the Ritz.

“To the world,” they toasted. As Aziraphale took a sip from his own glass, he watched Crowley. The demon had shown many of his true colors throughout this whole Armageddon disaster. The angel had seen a side of him that only made his love deepen. It filled him up so much, overwhelming him, that he had to look away briefly to clear his throat. There was still something weighing on his own mind. 

“Well, now that that’s done, what shall we do next?” Crowley asked. Aziraphale pretended to contemplate this as he wiped his mouth with his napkin. His heart was beating rapidly and he felt more aware of his counter than he ever had before. He had a plethora of ideas racing through his mind. They could go for a drive. _And kiss as the sun set._ They could visit a museum. _And hold hands as they walked through the exhibits._

“D’you know, when Adam put everything all… back together, he actually _added_ to your bookshop?” 

“Did he really?” He was dragged from his wishful thoughts. How did Crowley know such tiny differences? “Well, I can look at those later, if you’d rather..?”

“Nah, angel,” said Crowley, leaning back in his chair before pushing away from the table. “We’ve had enough excitement to last a lifetime. ‘Sides, we have the rest of eternity before us. Shall we?” He had moved to stand behind Aziraphale’s chair, his hands resting on the back as he indicated he was ready to pull it back for his friend. Smiling weakly, the angel stood, thanking their waiter once more as she passed. Together, he and Crowley left.

Aziraphale’s mind churned with everything they had been through together. In France, when Crowley had rescued him from the slicing of the guillotine and they had gone for crepes. When Shakespeare had seen them together and, he recalled guiltily, he had vehemently denied being affiliated with Crowley. He could still remember the venom with which they had argued when Crowley wanted the Holy Water. It still tore at his chest to remember how upset he had been after that. _Insurance,_ the demon had said, and insurance it had proven to be. He hadn’t wanted to give it to Crowley, if only because he had the wrong impression, until Crowley had saved them and Aziraphale’s books from the bomb. That was the real turning point for the angel. It was just so difficult to find the right time to say anything about his own soulmate counter. 

When they had decided to attempt the body swap, Aziraphale had tried to tell Crowley.

“If this all goes, forgive me, to Hell,” he had started.

“It won’t,” Crowley said. The determination in his voice was so certain.

“My dear, should it just happen to go even the slightest bit wrong,” the angel tried again, hoping the pleading look in his eyes was enough. He had even started to roll back his sleeve.

“Aziraphale.” He was frozen as Crowley grasped his shoulders tightly. “It _won’t._ We will both be back in your precious bookshop by this time tomorrow. I don’t say this often, but I promise you.” 

The angel couldn’t move, the look coming from his companion smoldering, keeping him in place. There was a lump in his throat and it took everything out of him to merely nod. As soon as the demon had released his grip, Aziraphale put his sleeve back down and straightened out.

Crowley’s promise had pulled through. They were arriving to his bookshop at that moment, the Bentley screeching to a stop where it always did. Before Aziraphale had even begun to reach for the door handle, Crowley was there, opening it for him.

“Oh, thank you,” he said as he climbed out. He wished, achingly, that a hand had been offered for him to grasp. Those beautiful hands he had thought so often about. Aziraphale was beginning to zone out, a very human thing of him to do. It was another moment before he realized that Crowley was waiting at the door to the shop, holding it open for the angel. 

“You know, you would never guess that we didn’t just experience an Almost Apocalypse,” Crowley said once they were inside, door safely shut and locked behind them. “You’re still off in your own world. Keeping me grounded, that’s for sure.”

“Keeping you grounded? How so?” Aziraphale pointedly wasn’t looking at Crowley as he removed his coat and started tidying the couch for them to sit. The moment a cushion was clear, the demon collapsed on it, kicking one leg up on the corner of a table that had just enough room. He fit so well on that couch. It had been his spot ever since the bookshop had seen its first day. 

“Well, you were there for the whole… Thing, right?” Crowley waved his hand in the air and then removed his sunglasses. It always felt as though a veil were being removed when he did that. “Shit was crazy. It almost feels weird to be back to, er, whatever our normal is.”

_Our normal._ Aziraphale had disappeared into the back to grab a couple of glasses and a bottle of wine, and he was grateful for that cover. He was feeling more and more confident about telling Crowley now, but a few glasses of alcohol would give him that softer filter. He just needed that extra boost. 

“I, for one, am glad to be back to normal,” agreed the angel, setting the glasses down and popping the cork. He poured them each a drink and they raised them, merely clinking them together before taking a sip.

The two of them returned to recounting the events of the past 24 hours, filling in the gaps that the other had missed. Lunch had merely been about their trials. Or, rather, the others’ trial. They continued consuming the wine, the air around them heating up over the course of a couple hours. By the time they were truly, unreservedly drunk, Aziraphale’s shoes had come off and his sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, while Crowley had shed his jacket and somehow ended up sitting on the floor.

“Look, all I’m sayin’,” the demon spoke, “is the Almighty? Didn’t really-- Didn’t really have any clue what she was doin’, right? I mean, _so much_ has gone so wrong! Just look at.. Er, look at…” 

Aziraphale worked hard to focus on Crowley, incapable of disguising the smirk on his face. He raised his eyebrows in a mocking invitation to continue.

“Fuckin’... I mean, jus’ look at _snakes._ ” As soon as it was out of his mouth, the demon was scrambling to find something else to poke fun at.

“Snakes?” Aziraphale laughed heartily. “My dear, you _are_ \-- Well, were a snake!”

“Alright, alright, alright,” Crowley grumbled. “Forget the sssnakes, then. Take the, uh..” His eyes fell on the soft glow on his companion’s wrist. “That soulmate bullshit. ‘S not exactly foolproof, now, is it?”

It was the fastest Aziraphale had ever sobered up. Instantly, he was sitting up, his glass refilling on its own, the ruddiness of being drunk disappearing from his cheeks and quickly being replaced by the paleness of being caught doing something bad. The demon beside him seemed not to have noticed.

“So she creates this, this, I dunno what you wanna call it, a system? For helping people ‘find’ their sssoulmates,” he prattled on. “But I have watched ssoooo many humans, angel, walk right past their soulmate without even noticing! They’ll have a conversation in a coffee shop and not even think about it until a week later! Surely there was a better way. I mean--”

Aziraphale was staring so intently that Crowley finally took notice. 

“Sober up,” the angel said softly. When Crowley gestured vaguely with his hand in confusion, he repeated himself sharply. “For Heaven’s-- someone’s sake, Crowley, sober up. Please.”

Never one to argue with his only friend, the demon did as he was told, straining for a moment before coughing and adjusting his position so he sat rather than slouched on the floor. Aziraphale was sitting on the very edge of the couch, his hands tucked between his legs, the counter on his wrist hidden behind his other arm. 

“I didn’t mean anything by it,” Crowley started. “Look, we can talk about something else if--”

“Please, just listen to me.”

It was said so softly and earnestly that Crowley was frozen, his mouth still ajar, watching Aziraphale with his brow furrowed slightly. Taking in a deep breath, Aziraphale suddenly felt like he’d been thrown on stage to introduce a comedian that nobody really liked, but had paid a decent amount of money to see. Over 5000 years of repressed emotions were coming to a boil and threatening to spill out of him onto the floor. 

“Soulmates… aren’t just for humans, Crowley,” he started finally. “Angels have soulmates, too. It started after the Garden, that’s why you don’t have a counter. Most of us, er, met our soulmate right away. Actually, everyone in Heaven who was assigned a soulmate met theirs within that first week. Except for one.”

He paused to see if he had to explain that further, but Crowley was staring with an unreadable expression on his face. He pressed on.

“See, now, the wrist counter starts at green,” he explained. He removed his hands from between his legs, but used his free hand to cover his offending wrist. “The closer you get, it turns red. Then when you meet, it turns white, counts up, and eventually fades away. But mine… Well…”

Chest aching, breathing shallow, Aziraphale lifted his hand to show Crowley the counter on his wrist. It now read 5,023 years, as well as a handful of months and days. If he concentrated on it, it would show it right down to the milliseconds frantically counting up. The light seemed to be much brighter than it ever had been, illuminating the two of them in harsh angles. The air was still for a moment as Crowley screwed up his face, apparently doing the math. As he appeared to reach the conclusion Aziraphale was waiting for, the angel steeled himself for the words he was about to say. This was it. Thousands of years had led to this moment, at long last, he would be freed from this weight.

“Crowley, you’re my soulmate. I’ve known ever since the Flood, but I just--”

“About bloody time.”


End file.
